Thumbelina, My Arse
by A.J. Kelly
Summary: Draco knew he was tiny and perfect, but that certainly didn't excuse everyone from trying to marry him. And kidnapping him was just poor form. Thumbelina!Draco, AU, Harry/Draco, Slash, One-Shot.


_A/N: So… this… interesting story is my, um, take on a Draco!Thumbelina. Why? Well, I was watching Rifftrax's (the brilliant men from Mystery Science Theater 3000) riff on Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny. It is, perhaps, the weirdest movie I've ever seen. Briefly, Santa Claus' sleigh gets stuck on a beach in Florida. After an odd and pointless montage of random kids kidnapping farm animals (and a man in a gorilla suit) to try to free his sleigh, Santa decides that he will tell the story of Thumbelina while they wait for help to arrive. Or something. Because apparently Thumbelina is the perfect story to make sure you never lose hope... Anyway, the guys' hilarious comments on the movie, for some reason, made me think of a snarky, bitchy Draco as Thumbelina. And no matter how dumb the idea is, it wouldn't leave me alone. And I have a 5,000-word essay to write, so this had to go away. I'm now inflicting it on you. _

_Unlike my other stories, no amount of thought has gone into this, past what was necessary to write it and get it out of my head. This work will not be my finest. It also has had only the cursory glance over it for spelling or grammar errors. So forgive any errors you find._

_Again, sorry for this. _

_(If you're interested, Santa was saved. By giant Mr. Ice Cream Bunny (though what was so 'Ice Cream' about him remains a mystery). In a car. Ah, the 70s.)_

* * *

Disclaimer: _The Harry Potter Series_ and all recognisable characters belong to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, and all other associates. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. Only this rather lame plot is mine.

Thumbelina, My Arse

The Malfoys were an Old and Ancient family. Emphasis on the Old and Ancient. In fact, they were so Old and so Ancient that people were beginning to think they were irrelevant to the modern Wizarding world. That is why, after ten years of marriage, several bitter arguments meticulously documented in _The Daily Prophet_'s gossip column, and many cold, lonely nights on the couch, Lucius Malfoy finally relented to his wife's incessant nagging to try for a child.

They tried for two years with no success, until one day over breakfast Narcissa informed him that she had decided he was unnecessary and that the witch doctor in Knockturn Alley had given her a seed that would let them grow their own child. A beautiful little girl, she said.

Lucius snorted, questioned his wife's sanity, and then locked himself in his study for the rest of the day.

Narcissa was undeterred, though, and went straight out to the greenhouse to plant the flower seed. The witch doctor promised her that if she planted it personally, watered it twice two hours apart, and then dispensed some of her magic into the seed, she would end up with a beautiful daughter that would look just like her and one day her daughter would become a Princess. Narcissa had even thought of the perfect name: Thumbelina, after her eccentric great-great aunt who had been a botanist.

Narcissa cleared out a corner of the greenhouse, dug a hole with her wand and dropped the seed into the dirt. Then she shot a squirt of water out of her wand. Once the water had soaked into the soil, she pressed the tip of her wand to the dirt and focused on sending some of her magic to the tiny seed.

Then she summoned a chair and sat regally, waiting.

After two hours she watered the seed again, just as the witch doctor said.

And then she waited. And waited.

By the fourth hour of waiting, Narcissa had grown bored and was mentally rearranging the clothes in her wardrobe. First by style, then by cut, and then by colour. She had never been a patient person. Her mother had once said it was one of her few flaws. Narcissa didn't think she had flaws, and even if she did, demanding prompt results that perfectly aligned with her desired outcomes hardly seemed like a major fault. If anything, she should be commended on putting up with the rest of the world who clearly couldn't live up to her exacting standards.

Six hours later, Narcissa was seconds away from apparating to Knockturn Alley and showing that damned witch doctor just what _Old_ and _Ancient_ families could do with their wands when messed with.

But then, just as she was getting to her feet, a dot of green appeared amongst the inky black dirt. As she watched, the flower sprouted and a beautiful bud of pink emerged. Narcissa clasped her hands together in anticipation and waited for her daughter to come forth.

The bud blossomed and then slowly began to open. A pale hand appeared, flexed, and then shot back between the petals.

Narcissa –slightly put off by the obvious height issue with her new child, but still far too excited to think much of it – stepped forward and touched a finger to the soft petal.

"Thumbelina? Come out, little daughter. I can't wait to see you! We're going to go shopping and try on clothes and I'll …"

"I am NOT a girl," came a swift reply, and out from the petals stepped a tiny, pale boy. Perfect in every way, but one. "And I refuse to have the name Thumbelina. What sort of a name is that, anyway?"

Narcissa pursed her lips and wondered what she would have to do to get a refund.

xXx

Draco was the perfect child. Though he was a boy – which, admittedly, was a problem for Narcissa – he was beautiful and did look like her. And much to her pleasure, he also enjoyed the odd shopping trip and dress up. He was everything she could have wanted in a daughter, except, well, _that_.

He did have a rebellious streak, though.

When Narcissa didn't keep an eye on him, Draco would sneak off outside. He loved exploring the wide world, even though his mother warned him that it was dangerous because of his size.

Draco never listened, though, for Draco's flaws were stubbornness, an unwillingness to listen – especially to something that proved his beliefs and ideas false, and an exorbitant amount of vanity.

Not that he acknowledged these flaws, of course. It was just what other people had told him were his flaws. Jealous people, Draco assumed. Why else would they so vehemently try to diminish him?

It was one such fine day that Draco had snuck outside and met Mrs Weasley, the toad. She was large and had the ugliest colouring that Draco had ever seen in his short, self-involved life.

"And what are you doing here, laddie?" She asked. "I've never seen your kind about."

"I live here, I can do what I want," Draco said, making sure his tone was as superior (read: snotty) as he could possibly make it.

"Well, you surely are a pretty thing, aren't you?"

Draco beamed at the toad and preened under her praise. Clearly he had misjudged her, for no one as ugly and common as she could see his absolute perfection unless they were special. Perhaps Mrs Weasley was Queen of the Toads. Did toads have royalty?

Draco was too busy contemplating the intricacies of toady royal politics to notice the conniving look that crossed the toad's face. She slowly leaned down and picked up a huge rock (or a pebble to you or me, for they are really very small) and brought it behind her back.

"I've a son, Ronald. He needs to marry soon. A pretty thing like you would be just what he needs."

Draco shook himself out of his musings and scrunched his nose. "No thank you. Even if I'm horribly curious on what goes on in toady court, I couldn't possibly marry a toad. Even if he's a prince," he added as an after thought. "I would make a dashing princess, though."

"No? Well, shame. I'd hoped to take you willingly. But I'm adaptable." And with that, Mrs Weasley swung her arm around and conked Draco over the head with the rock.

Draco's last thought before unconsciousness fell was that he hoped he wouldn't have a mark. He was far too pretty to die with a bump on his head.

xXx

Draco was unimpressed with toady court.

First of all, Mrs Weasley wasn't even royalty of any sort. There was no toad royalty. So not only was Draco expected to marry a toad, but it was a _common_ toad, at that. His pout had never been so pronounced.

Secondly, his toady-intended was ghastly.

Ronald was clumsy, could barely string together an intelligent thought, and, worst of all, he was an odd ginger-ish colour that was clearly the result of a genetic mutation throughout the Weasley line. It was horrid.

On the bright side, he barely had a bump to show from his kidnapping, so he was back to his beautiful self before he had even awaken. Sliver lining and all that rot.

He woke to find himself on a lily pad in the middle of a lake, and after two days, he still was stuck on the blasted lily pad. Ronald brought him little morsels of food several times a day, and the forced interaction was so unbearable that Draco found himself wishing for a swift death.

"I demand that you release me at once," Draco said on the third day of his capture. "I am cold, hungry, tired, and my mother will be quite worried about me."

"Er…" Ronald replied, his confusion showing by the grimace on his horribly large mouth.

"I'll scream," Draco warned.

"I don't think anyone can hear you," Ronald said. "You're small, like me. I think you'd just sound like a high-pitched, annoying bug."

"How dare you! I am beautiful, and manly, and most certainly _not_ a bug in any way."

"I know you're not a bug. If you were, my mum would've brought you back for me to eat, not marry."

"Are you _threatening _me?" Draco shrieked.

"You're one crazy little sod, aren't you," Ronald muttered.

"I'm not. Mother says I'm wonderful and that one day I'll be a princess."

"You're mental."

"Leave," Draco growled. "I won't let you sit here and insult me."

"Gladly," Ronald said, standing to his feet. "But if we're going to be…"

"Don't you dare say it!"

"Married… then you should be a bit nicer to me."

"I shan't," Draco declared. To punctuate his point, he huffed, crossed his arms across his chest, and stared intently at a large green leaf off to the side. Ronald rolled his eyes, but eventually gave in to Draco's demands and ran off, muttering to himself about annoying blonds and pushy mothers.

The next day was no better when Draco refused to even eat. Overnight he had suddenly remembered once reading a news story about a group of Muggle protestors. They had a hunger strike and some people refused to move when demanded. His father had scoffed at them and used it as an example for the young Draco of why Muggles were so odd and obviously intellectually inferior. Anyone who had to refuse food or thought not moving would achieve their aim (rather than force, Draco assumed, though that part was left unsaid) were obviously a few twigs short of a broomstick. But Draco found himself sadly lacking in other options.

So Ronald arrived to a snotty blond lying face down on his lily pad, refusing to budge and who was starving yet refused to eat.

"Do you think I want to marry you?" Ronald finally asked after several minutes of staring a Draco's head and both of them pretending they didn't hear when Draco's stomach growled loudly. "Because I don't. I have a girlfriend… well, sort of. Well, I like her and she likes me, but this mad plan of my mum's has shot that all to hell. I wish you weren't here just as much as you do."

Draco raised his head and appraised the toad. "You don't want to marry me? You'd rather marry an ugly toad instead of the beautiful me?"

"Oi, don't talk about my Hermione like that!"

Draco waved his hand to shut the horrible toad up while he let his brilliant mind devise a plan. It didn't take very long. Because Draco was brilliant, his mother always told him so.

"I have a plan," Draco said. "But I'll need your help. If you can get me off this lily pad, then I'll run away. You can marry your toady sweetheart and I won't have to marry you."

Ronald shuffled on his feet as he thought about Draco's plan. "I want to, but I can't help you escape. It'd make my mum angry."

"Well then don't tell her you helped me. You want to marry someone else, fine. Get me off here and I'll run away."

"I can't."

"Are you completely hopeless? Swim over here, get me, and swim us back. It's easy as that!"

"I can't swim!"

Draco blinked. "But you're a toad."

"So? I'm a horrible swimmer. I'll probably end up drowning both of us. And while I couldn't care less about you, I'm rather attached to life, myself."

Draco conceded the point, for he, too, was rather attached to his life. He looked all around for ways to free him. There were some long grasses, but by the looks of Ronald's thin arms, Draco didn't trust him to have the strength to lift him to safety. There were some rather large flying bugs, but the thought of touching one of the buzzing monstrosities made Draco physically sick. Marriage would be better than riding on a bug.

The perfect idea struck when a large air bubble emerged from the water several metres away. Draco had been dodging the blasted things for days, and one close bubble had almost toppled his lily pad over. At first Draco had thought the lake was alive and trying to kill him, but then he realised that it was fish and other animals breathing in the water. So he began to pass the time by watching all the creatures around him.

"Get a fish for me," Draco said.

"What?"

"A fish. Get a fish to bite the stem. It will free me and I shall drift off to safety."

"That's the stupidest—"

"If you don't we'll have to be married and I'll make you suffer."

Ronald thought about it and then nodded and stuck his head under the water. Draco grimaced in disgust as he was forced to watch Ronald's toad bottom wave about in the air. Really, death would be better than marrying that ghastly thing. But still marriage was preferable to the bug option.

Several minutes passed, and Draco was beginning to grow anxious, before Ronald's head popped up. "I've got a goldfish. She's biting it as we speak. I've even convinced her to pull you to the other side of the lake."

"Thank you," Draco said, truly grateful for perhaps the first time in his life.

If Ronald was shocked by his gratitude, he didn't show it. Instead he nodded and sat down on the mud to wait for his intended to be kidnapped once again, though more willingly this time. And without a rock to the head. In Draco's opinion, his kidnappings could only go up from there.

They waited. And then they waited. And finally Draco felt the lily pad lurch as it was released from its stem and pulled with the current. He politely waved goodbye to Ronald then occupied himself with covering his head so the wind wouldn't muss up his hair.

The trip seemed to never end, and by the time they reached the other side Draco was cold, windblown, wet, and desperately wishing he had taken the food from Ronald before he left.

He said a swift thanks to the fish for his rescue before elegantly disembarking from the lily pad… and promptly falling to the ground. Thankfully, no one was there to see him as he struggled to get his land-legs.

xXx

Draco knew he was relatively new to the 'life' thing, but he was convinced that winter was the worst thing he had ever experienced. It was absolutely horrid. It was rainy and cold, then snowy and cold, and then rainy and cold again. He had a difficult time finding enough greens and nuts to eat and just when things began to grow again, a frost would come along and kill everything off.

The only way Draco had survived this long was thanks to a bitter battle with a squirrel over the last remaining walnut. Draco won. He had been eating off the walnut for days.

He had tried to get home: there was nothing he wanted more than to be back home in his soft shell bed, listening to his mother hum a lullaby, and his father curse some incompetent bank manager from his study. He wanted a warm bath and hot chocolate before he fell asleep in satin sheets.

But he had no idea where he was, so going home was impossible. For reasons Draco was now questioning, his parents had never thought to give him basic outdoor survival skills. Draco swore that his own children would be fully prepared for every circumstance. Including being stranded in the middle of the winter with only a walnut for sustenance.

Three weeks on, Draco gave up.

He brushed his gorgeous hair, arranged his clothes to show off his best assets, and began a Shakespearean-worthy trudge through the snow. When he finally reached a small meadow, Draco tragically dropped to the ground – making sure he would look fabulous when he was found – and waited for life to leave him.

That was, until something began moving underneath him. Draco sat up and looked down to find a small door in the ground. He stood back as the door opened and a mole popped its head out.

"What are you doing out there, dearie? It's freezing and you'll catch your death!"

"Yes," Draco said, solemnly. "That was the plan. It's simply too hard, and I can't find my way home."

"Oh, you poor thing. Come in here and Andromeda will take care of you, yes I will."

xXx

Draco liked Andromeda. She was nice and doted on him. He did not like Andromeda's friend, Mr Snape. Oh, Mr Snape was nice enough, and certainly handsome, if moles were your thing. But moles were very much not Draco's thing. He wanted someone perfect and pale and small like him. Not someone large and dark and furry.

But Mr Snape promised to look after Andromeda if Draco would marry him, and while it wasn't ideal, Mr Snape was still a better choice than Ronald the Toad. Plus Mr Snape brought Draco gifts. Pretty gifts. Shiny rocks and necklaces that had been dropped in the woods… Draco loved pretty gifts. So after several weeks of wooing and convincing, Draco agreed to marry Mr Snape and stay with him and Andromeda forever.

He wasn't happy about it though. Draco didn't really want to marry Mr Snape, no matter how kind he was or how good he was a gift-giving.

The only person Draco could talk to about his predicament was an injured bird named Pansy. Draco had found the bird the previous week, frozen and with an injured wing. With Andromeda's help, Draco had nursed Pansy back to health, and any day now her wing would be fully healed and she would leave him.

"Why are you marrying someone you don't want?" Pansy asked again.

"I told you, Andromeda and Mr Snape have been kind to me. Mr Snape also brings me nice things. I could certainly do worse than Mr Snape."

"But you don't love him," Pansy insisted.

"No, but I may grow to love him."

"You won't, you're far to stubborn for that. If you don't love him now, you never will."

"That's a horrible thing to say about me," Draco protested, while inwardly agreeing with her assessment.

Draco knew that the biggest reason he agreed to marry Mr Snape was that he felt safe there. The big wide world was scary, and Draco had had quite enough of it, thank-you-very-much. Now he just wanted to have someone keep him safe and pamper him.

"I'll help you. I'll be better in a few days and I'll fly us out of here."

"No thank you. I have no desire to wander around until I freeze to death, once again. I'm safe here. Andromeda and Mr Snape are nice and keep me safe. I'll stay here."

"But I know of a fairy glen, they look just like you. I bet I could take you there and they would let you live with them."

Draco gasped and shot to his feet. "Like me? Little like me? And pale and pretty and perfect?"

"Well, not all of them are pale, but they all look like your species. Except they have wings because they can fly. But even so, they're more like you than the moles are," Pansy said.

Draco couldn't argue with that. As comfortable as he was with Andromeda and Mr Snape, the possibility of others like him was too tempting to ignore. So it was agreed, in two days when Pansy's wing was healed, they would fly away together and she would bring him to the fairy glen.

xXx

Harry Potter was the Prince of the Fairies, and that was a title that he quickly realised came with certain drawbacks.

Firstly, he never had any privacy. This was a very serious problem when he fancied a wank. And as a teenaged fairy prince, he fancied a wank _a lot._

Secondly, all fairy royalty had a prophecy told about them when first born. Harry's said that one day he would meet his perfect golden princess, she would become endowed with the royal fairy lineage, and together they would rule the fairy glen for millennia upon millennia of prosperous wealth and happiness.

Which led him to his third and final problem: When you have a prophecy of marriage told about you, every mother _everywhere_ manages to convince herself that her child is the one the prophecy speaks of.

Harry Potter hated that prophecy.

Though he was rather taken with the idea of the prophecy. He certainly didn't mind knowing that one day he would meet his princess and be blissfully happy. It was just the middle bits that drove him batty. The 'Waiting Bits', as he called them. They were the worst.

Many people had visited, each of them anxious to see if they were the ones in the prophecy, and each time Harry only had to look at them to know that it certainly was not them. He didn't know how he knew, he just did.

That's why on one particularly uneventful day, when Harry heard a rumour that a boy had been dropped from the sky by a bird, Harry wasn't expecting much. He waited and waited for the visitor to present themselves for his prophetic-inspection, as everyone did. But no one ever showed up.

Harry stuck his head out the palace window and saw a large crowd formed in the town square below. Without thinking, he launched himself out the window and landed just outside the crowd where no one noticed him. Throughout the mass of voices, one stood out amongst them all. It was clear, bright, and heavenly.

"So you're all this small," the perfect voice demanded. "Because I only want to live with people as small as I am. I'm tired of everyone being larger than I."

"Oh, yes, yes. All fairies are just like us."

"Well if I'm a fairy, then where are my wings?"

"I couldn't tell you. We're all born with ours. Perhaps yours never grew. Perhaps you don't have any."

"I beg your pardon, are you calling me defective? I'll have you know that my mother—"

The rest of the visitor's speech as lost as a horrified gasp caught Harry's attention. He turned to look, only to see a large crowd staring back at him, before everyone else turned and instantly dropped to their knees.

Everyone except the visitor.

The visitor that Harry could now see was a particularly handsome and beautiful man. He was a Golden Princess if Harry had ever seen one. The man raised an eyebrow at the crowd and then turned to look at Harry.

"Hello," Harry said. "I'm Harry Potter. I'm the Prince of Fairy Glen."

"Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy, human and visitor. I was kidnapped from my family, you see, and I've had a hell of a time getting back home. But then I learned that there were others my size and I just had to come see you."

"Yes, of course. You should come to the palace with me… Stay with me," Harry said, stumbling over his words.

"A palace? Yes, I think I shall. I've been horribly uncomfortable since being kidnapped and all I want is to be warm and surrounded by soft things."

Harry had to stifle a moan at the thoughts those words gave him.

xXx

Harry Potter made Draco feel funny. Harry Potter made Draco forget his words, blush for no reason at all, and whenever he looked at him Draco got an odd fluttery feeling in his stomach. Harry Potter also made all the blood in Draco's body rush to one special spot that Draco had yet to fully realise the potential of.

Harry bought Draco beautiful clothes and jewellery, he organised balls in Draco's honour, and at night he would look at Draco like he was the most perfect thing in the world before he would kiss Draco's cheek and leave to go to bed.

Draco Malfoy was in love.

So when Harry Potter explained the prophecy to him and said it was talking about Draco, he really wasn't surprised.

He also wasn't surprised when Harry asked Draco to marry him.

And he definitely wasn't surprised when he agreed.

In fact, the only time Draco was surprised throughout the planning and the wedding was on the wedding night when Harry Potter showed Draco Malfoy-Potter just how wonderful married life could be.

xXx

It had been a year since Draco had disappeared suddenly, and Narcissa Malfoy was heartbroken. They didn't know what had happened to him and he was so tiny that any mass search and rescue attempt could end up with a squashed son rather than a saved son.

Eventually life moved on and Narcissa began to wonder about the possibility of trying to grow another child – a daughter this time. One named Thumbelina because despite Draco's abhorrence of the name, Narcissa still felt that it was perfectly lovely for a daughter.

She was arranging the appointment with the witch doctor when a house elf appeared to inform her of visitors. She wasn't properly dressed to receive visitors and there wasn't any tea prepared for them, but Narcissa, ever the hostess, instructed the house elf to scrounge up any cakes and sandwiches they had and to prepare some tea. She set about straightening her hair, completely ignoring the house elf that was rambling on, until something caught her attention.

"What did you say?"

The house elf balked at his mistress' tone and his eyes widened in terror. "I says, Mistress, that they just be little people. Blinky only has Little Master Draco's cups to use."

All thoughts of primping left through the window, and Narcissa pushed past Blinky and ran the whole way into the sitting room. There, sitting on a cushion, were two little forms: one with black hair and one with pale blond hair. The blond was sitting on the other's lap, gleefully eating the little nibbles of food he was offered by the other.

"Draco?" Narcissa called, hesitantly.

The blond swung his head around and a joyous smile filled his face. "Oh, Mummy, you're here! I have so much to tell you and father, though I expect he's busy in the study. But, mother it was horrible. I was kidnapped by a toad and almost forced to marry her son, then I was almost forced to marry a mole, but thankfully I got to marry Harry instead, and he's a prince so it's vastly better than any thing else. And you were right, I did become a princess, though Harry isn't allowed to call me that outside the bedroom."

"Married?" Lucius asked from the doorway.

"Ah, father. Yes, this is Harry Potter, Prince of Fairy Glen and my new husband."

"Hello," said Harry. "And really love, they don't need to know our private details."

"But I want them to know you make me happy," Draco pouted.

"Well you make me happy too," Harry cooed, a sickeningly besotted grin on his face.

"Ugh, the honeymoon stage," Lucius muttered.

Narcissa was too busy trying to hold back her tears to say anything. Her wonderful boy, who really should have been a girl, had finally gotten married and become everything she dreamed a daughter would. And he was alive, and blissfully happy.

"I never knew married life was so wonderful," Draco rambled. "You should have told me, then I would have gotten married sooner. The only downside is that sometimes Harry has to take care of problems in the realm and I'd rather he stay with me. Preferably in our bed. Preferably naked, so he can show me all the other w—" Draco ended when Harry cut him off with a forceful kiss.

"Privacy, remember?" Harry said.

"You'll find, Harry, that one of Draco's flaws is the unwillingness to listen," Lucius drawled.

"I have no such flaw," Draco cried in outrage. He pouted and turned to his husband. "Harry, I don't have flaws, do I?"

"Of course not, love. You're perfect."

And Narcissa, Lucius, Harry, and Draco knew it would be happily ever after.

Because anyone who can see past the faults of a Malfoy must be stupidly blinded by love.

* * *

_A/N: Well, I did warn you. Again, sorry I inflicted that on you. But at least now I can write my essay. Please review and let me know how stupid this story was. Thanks! ~A.J. Kelly_


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